Ralph Revisited
by Helena2
Summary: Jessica stumbles across a picture of Darien Fawkes.


The initial portion of this fanfic was conceived within hours of viewing the episode "Ralph". Someone else posted a fanfic with a reunion between Jessica and Ralph, causing me to abandon the idea for a time. The idea for the second half came to me as I was contemplating different cases for the Agency for another fanfic; however, it seemed to fit with what I already had in mind for Jessica. Obviously, we will never see such an episode, as this is set about 12 years in the future. (And yes, the selection of certain names were chosen as a nod to Prey…and yes…prior to L&L, I had already determined that the Agency would have ensured that Darien had a clean record.)

NOTE: The characters of The Invisible Man are the property of whomever, and I am making no money off the posting of this fanfic…..the following is simply a creative endeavor, utilizing those characters. However, please note that this fanfic is registered: SWGw.

RALPH REVISITED

I looked up from my computer screen as Lauri Needlemyer burst into my dorm room. "You are not going to believe this Jessica!" she exclaimed. "Look what I found while doing research for that psychology project!"

She handed me a photocopy of an old newspaper photo. "Doesn't this guy look almost exactly like the drawing you have stored in the closet?" Laurie asked.

I glanced at the photograph, expecting some slight resemblance to my favorite drawing. Adrenaline flooded my system as I did a sudden double take. I struggled for calm and replied as casually as I could, "Well, yes. He does seem to bear some resemblance to the portrait of Ralph."

"Well, Ralph may be the name of the guy in your drawing, but that guy's name is Darien Fawkes. He was some kind of cat burglar who got busted for molesting old people about 12 years ago," Laurie interjected breathlessly.

"Where did you find this?" I asked. "Well," she began, "I was doing research for my deviant psych class. We had to find unusual cases – you know, the paper on the justice system. Anyway, as I was doing a search, the story popped up and I recognized the picture. I thought you might be interested, so I ran a copy of the article and picture for you. Oh, and I scribbled the addy in the margins in case you wanted to look for yourself."

"Thanks Laurie. It might be interesting to check some more into this. Kinda weird that the guy should look so much like my picture of Ralph." I stated.

I was anxious for Laurie to leave so that I could investigate this matter further, but I also didn't want Laurie to realize just how important this find really was. After all, Laurie had always thought that the picture of Ralph came from my imagination…not from finally seeing my invisible friend when I was eight. Luck was with me. Lauri, claiming the need to return to her search, quickly left after extracting my promise to meet at dinner to complete our lab notes.

I sat there and stared at the picture for a few minutes and thought about the past.

I can still remember saying goodbye to Ralph. I guess the pain made it remain so clear. Less clear in my memory were the visits after the goodbye. 

For about a year after the sniper incident, I went about my life. I tried to be a normal eight year old, and I slowly began to believe what all the grown ups kept telling me. Ralph was not real. And so the portrait was placed in my closet, behind my mother's old formal dresses, and slowly forgotten. 

Somewhere in the middle of my ninth year I began noticing weird things. There would be cold spots in my room….in the middle of summer. Teddy would have frost crystals on his fur, as if icy hands had been cuddling him. Things in my room would be just a hair out of place. Most of these memories are fuzzy. But some memories stood out. Like the time when I had just learned to ride a bike and was slowly, wobbly making my way down the street. The Macky's dog ran out at me barking and scared me. As I started to fall, my bike suddenly righted itself, the dog yipped as if he had been kicked, then ran away. It was as if ghostly hands had protected me. Or in high school, when Laurie's brother, Brian, tried to force me to kiss him on the front porch after our date. I kept saying "no" and trying to push him away. Suddenly, he was pulled from me and thrown out onto the lawn, but no one was there. 

Each and every time something odd like this happened, I would whisper Ralph's name, but I never got a response. Oddly, each of these ghostly visits filled me with comfort. I had lost my father in a tragic accident when I was seven. The emotional impact on me was so severe that I became voluntarily mute, talking to no one but my invisible friend Ralph. During the summer of my eighth year, I witnessed a killing. Shortly thereafter, Ralph first became visible to me. Rather than the child I had expected, Ralph turned out to be an adult; however, that was exactly what I needed. Ralph became my protector, my friend, my father-figure. Afterwards, I guess that some small part of me knew that this man Ralph was not the Ralph I had imagined, and that he could no longer be there every time I needed him. Although I had said goodbye to Ralph, the visits acted as reassurance. My father may have been gone, but I knew that out there somewhere, existed my protector.

The strange visits tapered off as I grew older, until they finally stopped during high school. I often pondered the existence of Ralph. Had he been real? Or was he really just my imagination. My memories of the time of the sniper and of saying good bye tell me they were real; however, if Ralph was real, then that meant invisibility was possible. And that's not possible. Is it?

I returned to the present with a start, and looked again at the picture of this Darien Fawkes who so resembled my Ralph. Was invisibility possible? I went to the closet, pulled out my portfolio and flipped to the picture of Ralph. I caressed the picture drawn out of love so very long ago. "Can you be real Ralph" I whispered.

A few hours of online research, coupled with a couple hours of hacking by my dorm neighbor Dillon, revealed some interesting things. Darien Fawkes was a native of my hometown, San Diego. He never was an inmate at Bakersfield Penitentiary, where he had been sentenced for life. As a matter of fact, there was no indication that he was an inmate at any state facility after his last trial. Even though the article indicated a criminal record, Dillon was unable to uncover any law enforcement or court files that referenced Mr. Fawkes. 'Curiouser and curiouier', as Alice would say. Dillon also taught me how to track down property records, and I was able to secure a San Diego address for this mysterious Darien Fawkes.

I looked at Ralph's portrait, with the spattering of dried blood across his face. Dr. Liston, my biology professor had assured me that even a 12 year old dried substance could be tested to determine if it was blood. The next day, I knew that it was. If the blood was real, then Ralph was human. My invisible friend had been real.

So, I had a real life human being who looked exactly like my Ralph. He had been convicted and sentenced to life in prison not long before Ralph first became visible to me, yet he never served that sentence…and all his criminal records had been wiped clean. I've seen the X-Files. I know all about governments, their conspiracies, and black budget experiments. Either I had gone completely nuts, or Darien Fawkes was my Ralph. After all, how many men with the power of invisibility could there be who looked like my Ralph? Only one way to figure this out: The Greyhound was scheduled to arrive in San Diego at noon the next day.

I stood across the street and watched the house. No cars in the driveway, but the garage door was closed, so it was possible that someone was at home. It was one of those old brownstone types in a neighborhood back on the upswing. Some of the row still looked in need of tender loving care; others had been carefully restored. Mr. Fawkes' looked like it was somewhere in between.

I crossed the street, my stomach tight. How was I going to explain all of this if I was wrong? What if he didn't want to see me? The screen door was unlatched, and light hammering could be heard somewhere upstairs through the open front door. I hesitantly rang the doorbell.

"Hey, if you're the lumber guy, just deliver it in the back. I'll be downstairs in a sec to sign the order," a hauntingly familiar voice called from upstairs.

My hand shook as I opened the door and entered the foyer. The risers on the stairs to my right had been stripped bare. Everywhere was evidence of a home in the process of rebirth. I started up the stairs slowly, disconcerted by the occasional squeak. A man was sanding down the frame on the window at the end of the hall. His back was turned to me, but the height was right. The hair looked the same.

The man whirled around at my barely whispered, "Ralph?" His mouth formed my name, but no sound came out. Extreme need painted his chiseled face, and his brown eyes were haunted. Suddenly he blinked, and casually asked me if I was lost.

"Were you looking for someone? Can I help you find an address," he asked.

It was him. My Ralph was this man standing before me. "Please don't act like you don't know me," I pleaded as I slowly crumpled to the floor and began sobbing quietly.

I was once again eight years old. His arms encircled me. His strength protected me. His familiar scent filled me and brought comfort. "Oh Jess. Hush. Hush. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just…it's just that…oh how am I going to explain you to Charlie?"

I looked up into his face, hesitantly cupping his cheeks, touching his lips, checking to see if he was real. "I'm real," he said. "I'm Ralph."

"But you're not," I replied. Your name is Darien Fawkes, and you're a thief."

He nodded slightly, cocked his head and smiled. "Once I was a thief, just as once I was a terrified little girl's invisible best friend Ralph. Now I work for the government on occasion and restore my house. That's about it."

"But did you keep coming back? After I gave you the key to your house I mean….you kept coming back." I asked.

He let go of me, turning to lean up against the wall beside me. He looked out the window for a while and then spoke hesitantly. "That was selfish of me. I never really thought about how it might have affected you. It was a hard time for me..." He turned to look at me, "and watching you, touching your things, knowing you were growing up and okay…all of that helped me." He looked out the window again and softly stated, "I'm sorry if it hurt you."

I brought his face back to mine. "I'm glad you're real. And I'm glad I found you again." The hug was large and long, and let him know that it was okay. After a while I sat back and asked, "So, can you really go invisible? And how have I gotten you in trouble?"

"Well, if I told you that I would have to kill you, now wouldn't I?" he replied with a sardonic grin. "And it's not so much that you got me in trouble as I don't know how I am going to explain to my boss that you found me. Exactly how did you find me?"

A short time later, we were sipping a few Samuel Adams's at his kitchen table. I had answered his questions regarding my discovery and we had moved on to what I had been doing since his last visit. I described my studies in biochemistry at the University. 

I asked Darien again about the invisibility. He played with the lip of his bottle for a few minutes, apparently pondering what he could tell me.

"Well, I guess I wouldn't be revealing any state secrets if I were to say 'Yes.' After all, you did see me disappear and reappear on more than one occasion." Darien gave me a little grin. "This still isn't my favorite topic of discussion, but you deserve answers. What exactly did you want to know?"

The questions began pouring out of my mouth before I even realized I had begun to speak. "How does it work? Were you born with the ability? Did you undergo a process? Why you? How long have you been able to go invisible? What are the limits….."

"Whoa. Slow down there…." Darien said, waving his hands in front of me. "Hrm….maybe it's easier if I just give you the thumbnail sketch, and then you ask questions. Okay?"

I nodded as Darien stood and removed our empty bottles from the table. He placed the bottles in the trash and pulled two more from the fridge. With a deft twist, he opened both bottles and placed one before me. He took a long pull on his own, and than began.

"Well, in order to avoid a long stretch in the pen, I volunteered to test a gland that would give the host the power of controlled invisibility." With a slight nod of his head, "Turned out, it wasn't ready for human testing. Although the gland worked like it was supposed to, it also had a nasty side effect, and they couldn't figure out how to remove it. The gland basically affects my cortical functions over time….kind of a progressive loss of inhibition." Darien held up his hand to forestall the question poised upon my lips.

"A counter agent was developed. Back then, I needed the counteragent every six days or sooner, depending upon the use of invisibility. We've managed to increase that time window a bit. Because I needed the shots, I went to work for the Agency. And because I worked for the Agency, I was assigned to you." 

"The red eyes," I murmured, picking at the label of the beer. "I had forgotten the red eyes." I looked up at Darien. "When you had the sniper…."

Darien looked away from me, "That was before I had the monitor." He pulled back his sleeve, removed his watch, and laid his arm on the table. A segmented snake curled on the inside of his right wrist, with half the bands a vivid red. "It measures the quicksilver levels in my blood, letting me know when I need a shot." He looked up at me. "I was out of control then."

"But if this "quicksilver" breaks down your inhibitions…..But, why then….Why did Ralph runaway?" I was confused. It sounded like he was describing psychosis of a sort, but my memories of that time were not making sense.

"Well, in the early stages, I have some control. And after the monitor was implanted, we worked for months on developing that control, but it's still a specter…still hangs over my head…."

Clearly, this was not a topic that Darien liked to discuss. We switched to lighter topics. He described the purchase of the house and his attempts to restore it to its former glory.

Suddenly the front door slammed shut, and a voice could be heard down the hallway. "Come on Fawkes. The fat man wants us. We got work to do." A rather untrustworthy looking little man in a rumpled suit appeared in the kitchen. "Move it Fawkes. This one's a biggie. Even Eberts looked flustered about this one – who's the girl? You have clearance to have her in here?

I suddenly had the feeling that this guy would shoot me if Darien came up with the wrong response. His hand was inching towards his badly concealed shoulder holster while his eyes pinned me to my chair.

Darien stood and moved in front of the guy, trying to intimidate him with his height. "Back off Hobbes. And no, I don't have clearance, but I will as soon as I talk to Charlie."

Hobbes did not appear to be the least bit intimidated. "I don't know Fawkes. You know the rules by now. Approval before hand. You remember what happened the last time you brought a broad home."

Darien unconsciously touched a slight scar on his forehead. "Yeah. I remember. And she's no broad. This is Jessica. You remember Ralph?"

Without ceremony, Hobbes snarled, "Aw crap. How the hell did this happen?" as he went for his gun.

Darien grabbed the gun and, sotto voice, informed Hobbes, "If you touch that gun, I will happily and permanently quicksilver every agency toy you have ever possessed and then hide them where you will never find them. Comprende?" Hobbes backed off. 

Hobbes turned and started back down the hallway. "Let's go. And bring the girl," he said over his shoulder.

Darien looked at me for a few moments, concern in his eyes. "Well kiddo. I hope you have some time, because you need to come with us now." He gave me a quick hug and then took my hand and led me out to the oldest, most beat-up, van I have ever seen.

"Well, so this is young Jessica?" The man behind the desk was older and a bit on the portly side. I am usually pretty good at reading people, but this guy was an enigma. There was nothing about him that said, "Fear me", but I definitely had the feeling that, if I proved to be a problem to him, this guy could make me disappear. "Most interesting….and rather convenient. I need you to go undercover at USC Mr. Fawkes, and Jessica here," he turned to look at me, "if she is willing, should provide the perfect cover."

"Oh no." Darien replied, leaning forward in his chair. "You are not going to involve Jessica in one of our cases. I think this agency has screwed with her enough."

"I believe it was you who screwed with her Mr. Fawkes" the Official replied. "As I recall things, this Agency saved her life. You were the one who kept visiting her, making her question her sanity."

"How the hell…" Darien began. "Oh never mind. Why am I ever surprised at what you know about what I do?"

"Either way Darien," said the Official, "the choice is Jessica's, not yours. If she does not wish to assist, we will find another way to infiltrate you."

"I'm game" I immediately responded. "What does it involve? What do I have to do?" It was my hope that whatever this entailed, it would allow me to spend some time getting to know Darien Fawkes the man, as opposed to Ralph the invisible friend.

"Eberts?" the Official stated as Claire entered the room and took her seat.

Eberts began handing out file folders to everyone present in the room. "Approximately two months ago, a number of female students at the university began waking up with unexplained surgical scars and no memory of the previous two to three days. Last week, Amanda Borden became one of those students."

Everyone in the room turned to look at the Official. "Yes," he responded to the unspoken questions. "Amanda is my niece. Her father called me yesterday, frantic about what had happened."

Eberts continued his briefing. "Our preliminary investigation has revealed 26 women with the unexplained scaring. Each is rated as highly intelligent, attractive, and physically fit." Eberts nodded for Claire to continue.

"I've had the opportunity to examine two of the young ladies. If each is the same, it would appear that the incisions were used to access their ovaries. If I had to guess, I would say that they each underwent a harvesting operation." said Claire.

"They what?" asked Darien, Agent Hobbes, and I in conjunction.

"The location and size of the incision on each of the girls I examined was consistent with the harvesting of ova…..their eggs."

Eberts continued the briefing, "Our current theory is that the women were taken, drugged and their eggs removed. The University has an internationally know fertility clinic, but as of yet, there is no evidence that the clinic is engaged in any illegal activity."

The Official looked around the room. "I'm certain you all understand that this matter is personal. I want to know what the hell is going on up there….and I want it stopped. To that end, I have arranged for a position for Darien as peer counselor at the University. He and Claire will pose as husband and wife, the aunt and uncle of young Jessica here. Jessica, it is my understanding that you work with Dr. Sloane of the Neurology Department. Is he trustworthy?"

"Well, he has been my instructor and mentor over the last four years. Everything I know about him indicates that he is a good man. I can't believe he would be involved in anything like this," I replied.

"Do you think he can be let in on the investigation? Would he be willing to provide Claire with the necessary personal reference to get her on staff at the fertility clinic?" the Official asked.

"I think so," I began. "Yes. Yes. He can be trusted and I know he will help."

We had been driving in silence for the last half hour. With the tension in the air, and the silence in the car, the usually quick trip from San Diego to LA seemed a lot longer than the normal three hours. I was beginning to feel as if we had been driving for a week when Claire finally spoke.

"How is it that you and I keep getting thrown together as husband and wife on these undercover assignments?" she said looking over at Darien in the driver's seat. "I mean, Charlie has to know that we go nuts after just a few days together in the same household."

"Maybe he just thinks we make a cute and believable couple," replied Darien with a touch of humor in his voice. Claire snorted. "Ah come on Claire. It's not that bad, we survived the last one with our friendship intact. And you know as well as I do that you have to stay close to me….you just hate letting me out of your sight," he teased.

"You have a tendency to get into trouble when I let you out of my sight," she replied. Claire sighed and looked out at the passing scenery. "I had Eberts do some further research and checking on the fertility clinic. It's headed by Dr. Phillips. She is the industry leader in both research and practical application. Her reputation is simply impeccable. I just don't see how she can be involved in the illegal harvesting." She turned back to look at Darien. "Did the Official give you any further information or instructions?"

Darien shook his head. He looked into the rearview mirror and met my eyes. "I really don't like the idea of you being involved in this. You just get us in to see Dr. Sloane. After that, I think you should go back home and stay with your mother till we get this all figured out."

"Sorry Darien. I have mid-terms coming up, and I can't miss my study groups or the tests. I work closely with Dr. Sloane in the lab. I can't just abandon the work or him. My leaving right now is out of the question. Don't worry." I smiled at him in the mirror. "I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself. Besides, as the saying goes, 'Forewarned is forearmed.' I'll be extra careful."

Darien stared at me for a moment longer in the mirror. With a tiny shake of his head, he turned his concentration back to the increasing traffic as we entered the greater LA basin.

As I had predicted, Dr. Sloane was more than happy to assist Darien and Claire. Three days later, Claire was working at the clinic, and Darien was ensconced in an office in the Administration building, carrying out his duties as a counselor.

"Don't even rate a secretary huh?" I asked as I entered his office without knocking.

"Nope. I'm actually pretty low on the totem pole." He cocked his head sideways and looked at me for a moment. "I thought I told you to stick to your usual schedule. I don't want you becoming a target if we rouse any suspicions."

I sat in one of the large chairs across the desk from him. "I needed some counseling," I said, grinning mischievously. "Who better to counsel me than my beloved Uncle Darien?"

"Jess," he said. "This isn't a game. When people get cornered, and these people will be cornered, they panic. They get ugly. They hurt anyone in the way of escape. And they use anyone they think can buy them that escape. I know what I'm talking about here. I've seen it before. If Claire or I lose our cover, you will be the first one they look to for leverage. Do you understand me?"

I nodded without saying anything. I wondered about this man who seemed so different and yet so similar to the one I had known as a child. Was I just seeing with older eyes, or had he changed so much? "Don't you think it would seem odd if I didn't spend some time with my Uncle, especially since he now works at the University I attend?" I asked.

As Darien sighed, he began unconsciously fiddling with a chain around his neck. "Does it itch? Or is that just a nervous habit?" I asked.

Darien seemed surprised. He ran his fingers a few more times down the chain and then gave me a soft smile. "Would you like to see what's on the end of this chain?" he asked as he slowly withdrew the necklace.

I felt tears form in my eyes as my mouth opened into a small "Oh." The key to Ralph's house dangled from a long strand of gold chain. "I've always kept it. I've always worn it." He removed the necklace and let it slither back and forth between his two hands. Finally, he cupped it gently in his right hand and smiled at me. As he put the necklace back on, he said, "Your case was only the second case I ever worked on for the Agency. The first one ended badly, and left me feeling even more trapped….chained to the Agency, with no choice in my actions. I tried to quit your case after our first meeting. The Official threatened to give you to Hobbes for debriefing. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle that, so even though I didn't know what I was doing to you, I knew it couldn't be worse than what Hobbes 'might' do to you."

He ran his fingers across the desk as if searching for words, feeling to see which ones would be correct. "After the sniper was caught, and we said goodbye, I felt like I had done something good…something right….and that I was the one who had made the decision to do it. For the next couple of years, my experiences with the Agency were good and bad. Sometimes, I felt like a puppet on a string, but the key would remind me: I did have choices of a sort, and I could decide to do what was right." He shrugged. "I guess it became a sort of symbol to me. Even though my life truly was not my own anymore, I still had a certain amount of control over it."

"Why did you stop visiting me?" I asked.

"I guess I finally got to the point where I wanted to be an agent. I wasn't doing it because that was the only way to get my shot. I wanted to fight the bad guys…to be one of the good guys. You had helped me reach that point, and I knew that if I didn't stop coming to see you, sooner or later you would figure things out." He grinned at me. "Guess I didn't stop soon enough. You always were a little smarty pants."

"How did you end up studying science? I always figured you would go to art school," he said.

"Well," I began, but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

"Darien Fawkes. Oh hi Claire. Now? Okay. I'll be right there." Darien looked at me. "She's here with me, why? Ah crap. Yeah. I'll make sure of it." Darien hung up the phone and unconsciously reached around to massage the back of his neck.

"Claire has found something. A list of names, the majority of which match up with the previous victims. Included in this list are the names of future donors. Your name is on that list."

A shudder ran down my spine. "So what now?"

He cocked his head and stared at me very intently. "Now? Now you come with me, and you stay with me until this thing is finished. I don't care about your finals. I don't care about your lab work. You will stay with me until I know you will be safe. Do you understand?" Darien stood and began walking towards the door, while un-holstering his gun and checking the clip. He re-holstered the weapon and held his hand out to me. "Come," was all he said.

We arrived at faculty housing a few minutes later. Darien unlocked the door and we entered. He headed straight towards some type of radio sitting on the tile counter dividing the kitchen from the living room. He placed a combination receiver-microphone on his ear and flipped a few switches. "Calvin to Hobbes. Come in Hobbes. Sit-rep Hobbes? Fill me in. Over."

"Damn" he said. "Keeper was supposed to meet me at base. She should have been here before me. You see anything?" 

Five minutes of silence passed before Darien turned to look at me. "Claire never left the lab according to Hobbes and his attempt to contact her via radio failed. When he called and asked for her, they informed him she had already left for the day."

Darien and I both turned to look at the door as the knob was twisted violently. "The bedroom. Now," he whispered as he shooed me in that direction. I could still hear him whispering into the mic. "Hobbes, I have unfriendlies outside. Get over here. Now."

He entered the bedroom and shut the door, and looked around frantically. "Why the heck did we accept this housing. One freakin door. Fifth floor so the windows are out." 

He went over to the window and looked out. I came up behind him and looked out over his shoulder. Two large men stood across the street looking up at the window and the roof of the building. Each wore a three piece suit that failed to conceal the large firearms in their shoulder holsters. I turned to look at Darien as a loud crash sounded in the living room. "What now?" I asked.

Darien looked out the open window again, then back at me. "How's your head for heights?" he asked. I shrugged. "Now, you learn what it feels like to be invisible," he said giving me a tight grin. "Come here."

I hesitantly took the two steps that separated us and was quickly embraced. "I'm going to make both of us invisible, then we will climb out on the ledge. Don't talk or make any noise. And what ever you do, do not lose contact with me. Your invisibility will only last for a few minutes if contact is broken. Understand?"

As I nodded, Darien began to disappear. Seconds later, I was being encased in liquid silver. The quicksilver was alive; it slithered quickly across my skin, as if it were hungry and searching for food. As it coated my mouth and crawled up my nose, I shuddered and hugged Darien closer. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, trying not to moan and resisting the urge to spit the stuff out.

"Relax," Darien whispered in my ear. "It won't hurt you. Open your eyes Jess. You won't be able to see to get on the ledge if you don't open your eyes."

I felt as if mosquitoes were skating across the inside of my eyelids, as if bugs were crawling all over my body. I wanted nothing so badly as to wipe them all off. I turned my head up towards the sound of his voice and slowly opened my eyes. Darien stared down at me, but I could not read the expression in his eyes. The world had gone black and white. His face was haloed with light, and his eyes simply glowed. 

"Come on," he said. "We have about 15 seconds before they come through that door. We may be invisible, but if there are enough of them, they will still find us in this small space." He led me to the window and helped me out to the ledge, careful to keep contact the whole time. I grabbed hold of the top of his head as he climbed out, maintaining contact by sliding my hands down his arms as he slowly stood. He brought me back into his embrace and shuffled us to the side of the window.

I started to ask why, but he put a finger to my lips and leaned down to whisper in my ear, "In case they lean out the window to yell at their buddies. Now be quiet."

Two other men had entered the room as we exited through the window. With ruthless efficiency, they checked the closet, the bathroom and under the bed. In short order, they were tearing the room apart, looking for something.

"Nothing out of the ordinary in these rooms," stated the first one, following twenty minutes of searching.

"I didn't find anything either," said the second. "But that definitely is a two way radio out there, so the guy and the doc must be involved. Did Sever say that anything was missing from the lab?"

The first guy said, "Nope. Nothing missing. And the only thing the doc had on her was the list of names. And since we got here before she got out, I doubt anyone else knows about that list."

The second guy unhooked a radio from his belt. "Hey Mack. The guy is definitely involved. We found a radio up here, but he isn't here. We didn't find anything else."

The radio squawked a bit and then delivered a tinny voice. "Okay. You stay there and send John back down. We'll check his office and see if we can't grab the niece."

Both men left the bedroom. A few minutes later, we heard the sound of the front door closing and the television coming on. Someone remained in the living room, channel surfing. John exited the building and crossed the street to the two men standing there. They talked for a few minutes, then John and one of the guys got into a car and drove off. The remaining man got into the driver's seat of a second car and just sat there, watching the front of the building.

Darien removed his right arm from my shoulder and looked at his wrist.

"Checking your watch….or the tattoo?" I asked. 

"Both actually," he replied casually.

"Are you in trouble? … Are we in trouble?" I asked.

He looked down at me. "Well, what do you think? We are stuck on a ledge with no way down. There's a guy in the living room guarding the front door. There's a guy down there guarding the building's front door. I just quicksilvered two people which effectively halves my available time, and I wasn't full up to begin with. Yeah Jess. I think we're in trouble."

"How long has it been? How long do you have?" I could feel the tiniest trickle of fear beginning to crawl up my neck.

"Well, based upon the tattoo, I would say I have about 15 more minutes max of invis time. But, since I have to keep you invisible as well, assume about 8."

"Uh, Darien. What exactly do you mean when you say 'max'? Would that be like, oh… until you start to go insane, or more like…oh, … until you go completely over the edge?"

His only response was, "Inside and keep contact."

We entered the bedroom and approached the door. Darien peeked around the corner for a second. "Okay. He's sitting on the sofa, back to us. Keep contact."

We moved out into the short hallway and proceeded toward the living room. Darien stopped at a small sideboard and picked up a large, heavy, silver candlestick. It slowly took on a glowing quality. I assumed he quicksilvered it.

Darien looked down at the man sitting on the couch. With no hesitation and extreme accuracy, he landed a blow to the side of the guy's head with the candlestick. The guy fell to his side and then down onto the carpet. Blood seeped from his wound onto the floor.

"Is he dead?" I asked.

"I doubt it," Darien replied. He led me around the couch to the side of the prone body. After a quick check for a pulse, he turned and looked at me. "He's alive. Let's go."

We went out the door and down the hallway to the stairs. Five flights later, we entered the lobby. Through the large, glass front doors, I could see the man waiting in the car. "Now what?" I whispered. 

Darien led me up to the door and stepped off to the side. We waited impatiently for someone to enter or exit. Luckily, we didn't have to wait long. We exited the building and Darien turned left, heading down the side walk. I almost had to run to keep up with his long strides. "Darien," I panted. "Slow down a bit please."

His stride lessened. We ducked into an alley and almost ran smack into an old, beat-up van. Darien walked up to the driver's side door and tapped on the window. Agent Hobbes peeked around the partition separating the back of the van from the front. He appeared to be confused for a moment, then asked questioningly, "Fawkes? That you?"

"Yeah it's me Hobbes. Open up." Hobbes disappeared from sight. A few seconds later, the side panel of the van suddenly opened. We entered the van. Darien let go of my hand and headed for the passenger's seat. As the quicksilver snowflaked from my body I gave a heavy sigh of relief.

Hobbes looked back at me. "You brought the girl? And why are you still invisible?" He turned to look at the passenger's seat.

"Just drive Hobbes. Get us out of here."

Hobbes stared at the apparently empty seat for a few moments longer. As he shoved the van into drive and pulled out of the alleyway, he muttered under his breath, " 'Just drive Hobbes. Get us out of here Hobbes.' I have a feeling that things just went from bad to worse."

A few minutes later we pulled into the garage of the Agency stakeout house, and the automatic door was closing behind us. Hobbes turned to look at Darien's seat. "So what's the deal?"

"Not now Hobbes." The passenger door opened and then closed, followed by the door to the house. I looked at Agent Hobbes. He turned to look at me.

"You want to tell me what happened up there?" he asked.

"He had to quicksilver me. I think he needs his shot" I said.

"Just great," Hobbes said, as the worry grew across his face. "We don't have a Keeper right now. And no Keeper … means no counteragent." 

I watched him exit the vehicle and enter the house. I wasn't really certain that I wanted to follow. The memory of Darien red-eyed and with that sniper jumped to the forefront of my thoughts. I shuddered. Taking a deep breath, I made myself think about other memories of Ralph. I spent a couple of minutes reconciling my knowledge of human biochemistry with Darien's explanation of quicksilver madness. Armed with the comfort of science, I headed into the house to find the man who had once taken a bullet for me.

I found Darien sitting on the desk in the back bedroom, staring out the window. His back was to the door, so I couldn't see his face, but the anguish in his voice spoke volumes.

"Leave Jessica. I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want you here" and after a pause "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

"Darien," I began quietly. "You obviously have some level of control over this madness. You didn't hurt me when I was eight. I don't think you would hurt me now…. Biochemistry has been my area of study for the last four years. From what you described, it sounds as if you undergo a loss of inhibition rather than a head-long descent into psychosis."

I walked up behind him, embraced him, and laid my face against his back. He was rigid and shaking.

"Jessica," he began in a hoarse voice.

"Shhh Darien. Let me see." I stood up, reached around to grab his shoulders and began turning him towards me. He resisted for a second, and then suddenly turned, his face on level with mine.

"Satisfied. You wanted a good look at the freak, so take it." Darien's eyes were not the blood red I remembered. Rather, they were heavily blood shot, and filled with pain.

I cupped his face in my hands and laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Darien, have you ever harmed someone that didn't deserve it when you didn't get your shot in time?" I asked.

He seemed confused by the sudden change in topic. "What?" he asked. "What does that have ….I don't understand."

Hobbes entered the room. "She's right you know. We've been all through this Fawkes. You know that even in the throes of the worst madness you still have some level of control. You and the Keeper worked on this for months."

Darien turned to stare at Agent Hobbes. He began nodding his head. "You're right. I always have 'some level' of control. And you and I both know that that control is not always enough….don't we Hobbes." Sarcasm was apparent in his voice.

"That was before you practiced on control with the Keeper Fawkes…and while you were under Scarborough's spell. You know that doesn't count."

"Darien," I interrupted. "you won't hurt me. You didn't hurt me before."

Darien looked from Hobbes to me. He violently rubbed his eyes and then stared out the window for a few moments. "Okay, I'll work at maintaining control. But the Keeper is still missing, we still don't know what's going on or who is involved, and I'm pretty sure I've hit the limit of invisibility. I'm open to suggestions here."

A call to the Official revealed that Claire had managed to send files to the Agency before she disappeared. Hobbes sat at the kitchen table, a wide variety of firearms spread out before him. He was engrossed in the ritual of preparing for the worst. Darien sat quietly in the living room on the large sofa, staring at the coffee table. 

I finished making the sandwiches and handed a plate to Hobbes who barely muttered his thanks. I sat down next to Darien on the couch and offered him the plate. Darien took the plate, placing it on his lap. He then leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch, his eyes closed.

"So how long do we have to wait for the information from The Official?" I asked, biting into a sandwich.

"Eberts said that it would take him an hour or so to break the encryption on the files. We should have the information from Claire by then." Darien replied.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked.

Darien sighed heavily. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for awhile. After a few minutes, he turned his bloodshot eyes towards mine.

"Yeah. Just don't do anything to activate my paranoia."

I had a hard time looking at his eyes and still keeping my thoughts coherent.

"Freaks you out….doesn't it," he said with a smile. "It bugs the hell out of Hobbes as well. Which, of course, when I get like this, makes me want to just sit and stare at him." He paused to scratch the back of his neck then rub his chin. "Actually, I have a feeling I would do it to him whether my inhibitions were inhibited or not." Darien turned to stare at Hobbes at the kitchen table.

Without looking up, Hobbes responded, "Shut up Fawkes….and quit staring at me. I'm the one with the loaded weapons here. That reminds me, why don't you give me your gun for the time being?"

"Not a chance Hobbsey….I'll be keeping it for now. Don't worry, I promise not to shoot you on purpose."

"Famous last words," Hobbes muttered as he sighted down the length of his .45.

I watched this interplay in silence. Clearly, Darien and Hobbes had been through a lot together. Although the bloodshot eyes might still freak Hobbes out, he clearly was not concerned with Darien's impending madness. My internal dialogue was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

Hobbes picked up the receiver. "Clear," Hobbes said. He nodded a few times as he scribbled notes down on a pad of paper. "Got it. Don't worry sir. We have the info now. We'll get her back." Hobbes hung the phone up and turned to look at Darien.

"Well, the fat man's lackey got the info we need. The information Claire sent implicates not Dr. Phillips, but her assistant, Mike Billings. Apparently this Billings guy was working with couples who wanted to assure the best genetic material for their impending little bundles of joy. I have an address here. Most likely, this is where they are keeping the Keeper."

"Why can't you ever call her by her name Hobbes?" Darien asked. "It's Claire. Is that so hard to say?"

Hobbes just stared at Darien for a moment. "You know, I'd leave you here, but we're probably going to need your special talents to get "The Keeper" out safe and sound." Hobbes emphasis on "The Keeper" was quite clear. "Time to move partner. We'll leave the girl. She should be safe enough."

Darien shook his head a few times and then looked up to meet Hobbes eyes. "No."

"What do you mean 'No'?" Hobbes asked.

"I mean," Darien said. "That we will not be leaving Jessica here. The risk is too great. I want her where I can see her." Hobbes began to shake his head and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Darien. "Hobbes, I don't care what you think, or what you feel. We are doing this my way…..she will stay with us at all times. I am the only one who can protect her at this point."

Hobbes just stared at Darien, motionless for a few minutes. "Okay" he said placating Darien. "We'll do it your way. But you know you're pushing your limits…..and you will have to go invisible to get the Keeper out."

Darien turned his bloodshot eyes to me. "Do you trust me?" he whispered.

I was too terrified to speak. I didn't want to wait here alone, but was no longer sure I wanted to be with Darien when he crossed that threshold into madness. With a leap of faith, I nodded slightly, never taking my eyes from his.

Darien brought his face very close to mine, laying gentle hands upon my shoulders. "I won't let anything happen to you Jess….no matter what….I won't let anything happen to you."

Fifteen minutes later, we were in the van, headed across town. I sat quietly, listening to Darien and Hobbes discuss plans on how to secure the safe return of the Keeper.

We pulled to the curb half a block away from a nondescript house in an average neighborhood. Darien and Hobbes argued for a few moments about leaving me in the van. Darien had entered full stage paranoia, and refused Hobbes excellent advice that I simply sit tight.

"Don't push me on this Hobbes. I'm not really in the mood to argue the point right now. I'm tryin' buddy…….. but I'm hangin' on by a thread here. I don't care if I have to quicksilver her to keep her safe. I don't care if I hit the point of no return. She sticks with me where I know she is safe. Got it?"

Hobbes looked at Darien for a few moments, then turned to me. "You know how to use a piece kid?"

"Well, I spent a couple hours at a range once," I said.

Hobbes sighed, and looked at the house down the street. Coming to an apparent decision, he turned back to me. "Okay. Guess that will have to be good enough." He handed me a small .22. "This should intimidate the bad guys, but won't hurt either Darien or myself if you accidentally hit us." Under his breath he muttered, "Unless you get a lucky hit."

Handling the gun awkwardly, I asked, "What do I do with this?"

"Point it at the target and pull the trigger," Hobbes said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

Darien glared at Hobbes for a moment, then turned to me. He took the gun from my hands and switched the safety off, then back on again. "For now, just tuck it into your pants. If you have to draw it, turn the safety off first." He handed the gun back to me. He looked at me for a moment. "I'm going to go invisible and work my way around to the back of the house. Hobbes…as usual, gets the pleasure of the frontal assault. You follow me and do as I tell you. Okay?"

Hobbes handed Darien an ear piece which Darien then placed behind his ear, adjusting the microphone. "Check. Check." 

"Got it." Hobbes looked from Darien to me. "Be careful partner."

With that, Darien disappeared. Darien exited the van and opened the door for me. "Come on Jess."

I stepped out of the van, recognizing Darien's presence by the aura of cold. He took my hand and led me across the street, towards the house.

We entered the back yard, with me bumping into Darien as he paused by the corner of the house. "Wait here," he said. Peeking around the corner, I saw a large rock lift itself from the ground and fly suddenly through the air and hit a large sliding glass door.

The shattering of glass brought two men running into the back yard, weapons drawn. I drew my own. Cold chills crawled down my arms. Suddenly, Darien was visible beside me. "That should lure them from the front," Darien said. 

I turned to look at him, suddenly gasping for air.

"They're totally red now….aren't they?" he asked.

I tried very hard to control the fear coursing through my veins. What the hell had I been thinking? I wasn't an agent. I wasn't trained for this. Between the two thugs in the backyard with firepower, and the apparently insane man standing before me, I was terrified.

Darien reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. I jumped and stepped backwards….into the line of sight of the two thugs.

I whirled to the command, "Drop the gun" and was promptly tackled from the side. I was hauled to my feet roughly, the cold steel of a gun pressed to my temple.

"Come on out," the voice of the man behind me said.

Darien exited from the shadows of the building. His eyes were solid red now. He cocked his head to the side, looking at the man behind me. "Oh, you really don't want to do that. Let her go…..and I might…. let you live," Darien said.

"Sorry bud," the guy behind me replied. "Looks like I'm the one with the gun and the hostage. I'm in control here. Now, hands behind the head, and down on the ground." he said.

Darien came a few steps forward. "I gave you a chance," he said, shaking his head in apparent regret. "Guess now I will just have to kill you." With that, he disappeared suddenly from sight. Almost immediately, I was wrenched from the thug's hands and thrown to the ground. In the few seconds left me before the impact of my head on the rock rendered me unconscious, I saw the thug's gun fly out of his hand, heard the audible "crack" as his neck was broken, and saw the look of surprise on his face as life drained from his eyes.

I awoke, becoming slowly aware of the sound of breathing to my left. I opened my eyes to discover Agent Hobbes sitting at my unfamiliar bedside. "Where am I?" I asked.

"One of our labs," Hobbes said. "How's the head? You okay? How many fingers do I have up?"

"Fine, fine, and three." I responded. "Why am I here and not at a hospital?" I asked.

"Well, we take care of our own," Hobbes replied. "Besides which, you need to be debriefed."

"Where is Darien?" I asked.

"He's fine," Hobbes responded to my unspoken question. "The Keep made him get some rest. You've been out for three days. Fawkes refused to leave your side."

I turned to look at the wall. "Did he really kill that man?" I whispered.

"Would you rather he have let "that man" kill you?" Hobbes asked. He let the silence lie for a while before continuing, "For whatever reason, Fawkes cares about you. He risked his life and his secret to save your life. You can't judge him by what he does in the throes of the madness kid. He operates on base instinct during those times…..and his base instinct was to preserve your life…..whatever the cost to himself."

"Kid," Hobbes began, then paused as if to rephrase his thoughts. "I know it's hard to see someone die, but these guys were bad men. Trust me. They would have killed you if they thought it would buy them safety or freedom. Darien knew this. He just did what he had to, to keep you safe. Don't judge him too harshly." 

I turned back to look at his face. "Actually," he continued, turning to look at anything but my face, "If you can't keep the disgust off your face, it's better if you never see Darien again. He carries the death of anyone he has ever killed in his conscious….quicksilver madness or no. I don't think he could stand disapproval from you…especially not now."

Hobbes turned to meet my eyes, his concern for his partner clear in his eyes. "Darien will be awake soon. Please don't hurt him." With that, he left the room.

I wandered in and out of consciousness for a while, finally waking to find Darien sitting in the seat beside my bed. "And so sleeping beauty awakens," he said.

"My prince," I replied, sitting up and reaching out for his embrace. Darien enfolded me in his arms. With Hobbes' comments in mind, I let all fear go and just did my best to express my thanks without words.

Darien was the first to pull back. He ducked his head slightly and met my eyes, "You okay?" he asked, the guilt clear in his eyes.

"Yeah," I responded, somewhat confused. "You saved my life. Why do you look so concerned?"

Darien looked away, "It's my fault that you have been unconscious for the last three days. I'm the one that threw you onto that rock."

"Uh, Darien," I said. "I'll take three days unconscious over a lost life. You were acting quickly….these things happen." I changed the subject. "So how's Claire?"

Darien turned back to me. "She's fine. We got her out unhurt. Billings is in an Agency holding cell, along with all of his cronies that we could round up. Dr. Phillips had no idea about the sideline business Billings was running. Each of the women abducted have been examined. None suffered anything more permanent than the slight surgical scar. Charlie is so happy he offered Hobbes and me a vacation…paid no less." Darien grinned slightly with the last comment.

"So the fat man said you could work on the quicksilver project?" Darien asked. 

We were back where we started, sitting at Darien's kitchen table, tossing back a few brews. "Well," I said. "Not yet, and not officially. When I start my grad work, he said he would finance my research into eliminating the side effects of the gland."

"You'll forgive me if I don't hold my breath," Darien said with a smile. "I've sorta been down this road before."

I nodded and continued to pick at the label on my beer. "You know, I will demand payment for my research."

Darien's eyes grew suspicious. "What?" he asked.

"You have to teach me how to pick locks," I replied.


End file.
